How To Tame a Rake (11 page)

“Then my son’s a fool. Oh, my dear. I so wanted you as a daughter-in-law.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Elizabeth. I will miss you.” As Willy hugged her aunt she bit her lip, determined not to cry.

When she reached her room, she threw herself on the bed and sobbed so hard she thought her heart might break in two.

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Chapter Thirteen

Willy had hardly seen Blake before the morning she was to leave. Her trunk stood in the hall and she was tying her bonnet as he came down the stairs.

He came to her and surprised her, sweeping her into a hug. “Be happy, Willy,” he said his breath soft on her cheek.

“Thank you, Blake.” She fought her body’s annoying reaction to his touch and swallowed the lump in her throat that had lodged there since she’d said her final good byes to her aunt. “I wish the same for you.” It was disturbing to discover that her aunt and Blake had become more her family than the one she returned to. If only he loved her and wanted her.

If Dix was grateful for Willy’s rescue he had yet to say it. He stood pale and silent as they waited for the carriage to arrive.

When Vincent’s coach pulled up and they climbed inside, the boy’s face changed. “What a great dog,” he said putting his arms around Frederick who paused from his intense scrutiny of the road to wag his tail and give Dix’s face a lick.

“What’s that crest on the door of the coach, Vincent?” Dix asked.

“My family’s coat of arms.”

“You’re a toff then,” Dix said.

Vincent laughed. “Yes, I’m a toff. Don’t be too disappointed Dix.”

After thanking Vincent for his grand gesture, Willy settled in the corner of the coach. Not only was she going home in disgrace to face an irate parent and siblings, she was bringing a rag-tag pair along with her. Her harassed father’s disappointed face appeared before her and she shivered. How had she failed so badly? She had been prepared to fight for Blake’s love, but somehow she was unable to be the kind of woman he wanted. The woman with the red hair knew much of love that was plain. Willy would fight for anything and anyone dear to her, but not this.

As the coach approached the outskirts of London, she sat up. “I’d like to call to see a friend on the way. She lives on a farm just outside Oxford. Would that be possible?”

“I don’t see why not. We can make that by nightfall and then stay at an inn nearby.’

“Does she have a barn?” Dix asked. It was the first time he’d spoken since they began the journey.

“Yes, why?”

“I’ll sleep in the hay, I’ve done worse,” he said. “I like farms. I remember when I was very small and my parents were alive. My pa worked on a farm. I took him his lunch. A ploughman’s lunch he liked.” He closed his eyes as if he could see it. “Bread and cheese and pickles. He loved pickles.”

“What happened to your parents?”

“Cholera got in the water. Many people died.”

“I’m so sorry, Dix.” Willy thought how sadly his life had turned out. She prayed he would be made welcome in Northumberland. She should have written to alert them of their coming. What was the matter with her? She was behaving like a coward.

Frederick was asleep, locked in Dix’s arms when they arrived at Susan’s farm. It was growing close to dusk. They found her rounding up the chickens.

“I’ll help with that,” Dix said. Frederick joined in causing the birds to flap about in all directions before Dix grabbed him.

“Who’s the lad?” Susan asked after Willy introduced Vincent. Willy began to tell her Dix and Frederick history.

“Vincent is kindly taking me home to Northumberland,” she said.

“Stay here and welcome,” Susan said. “I can offer you a humble repast, but will be filling. I have enough for your coachman and groom.”

“Thank you but there’s no need. They have a relative in the village and are keen to visit them for the night,” Vincent said. “And I’ll stay at an inn.” He doffed his hat. “I shall see you in the morning, Willy. Early.”

They sat round the small table eating cold mutton with potatoes and rhubarb and apple pie.

Susan heated milk for Dix. After he’d drunk it, his eyelids began to droop. “It’s off to bed with you,” Willy said.

“Can Frederick sleep with me?” Dix asked. Willy saw that the act of false self-confidence he’d adopted to survive in London was already falling away. He was just a needy young boy.

“You can keep each other warm. Tonight will turn cold,” Susan said.

Willy had noticed how much colder it was, colder still as they headed north.

After Dix and Frederick retired to the small attic bedroom, they sat in the small kitchen talking. Susan yawned. “You must excuse me. I’m up before dawn.”

“I’m tired too,” Willy said, as she followed Susan up the stairs. She peeked in at Dix. He slept with one arm out across the counterpane, with Frederick stretched out beside him.

They prepared for bed in the small room they were to share. As Willy undressed, she said to Susan, “I wish I didn’t have to go back to Northumberland.”

Susan continued to puff up the pillows and said nothing.

In the morning Willy rose with Susan. As the first rays of a wan sun shone through the cottage windows, Dix woke and clambered down the stairs to take Frederick outside. He refused to wash his face, offering to milk the cow by way of compensation.

Willy wrapped a warm shawl around her shoulders and was picking strawberries when the coach arrived. Vincent came to help her, popping fat juicy strawberries into her basket.

He watched Dix feeding the plow horse an apple. “Dix seems to like it here.”

“He’ll be happier and healthier in the country.”

“We should start out straight after breakfast.”

“Why are you being so kind to me and my motley group?” she asked again, as he took her basket and they started back to the cottage.

He stopped. “Don’t go in yet. I want to talk to you.”

“What about?” She sensed what was coming and her heart sank.

His warm brown eyes gazed into hers. “Willy, would you consent to be my wife? I promise to take good care of you.” He placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “I swear I won’t grouch at you or neglect you.”

Willy hesitated. “Vincent,” she said gently. “Why do you wish to marry me?”

He looked surprised. “I like you better than any woman I’ve ever met.”

“But you don’t love me.”

“I’m sure it will swiftly follow,” he said smiling.

She shook her head. “And though I like you excessively, I don’t love you.”

Vincent studied her. “Who do you love, Willy?”

“Blake,” she said simply.

He frowned. “Then why not marry him?”

“Because I love him. He’s happy when he’s free and that’s the best thing I can give him. He doesn’t have to marry me now.”

He shook his head. “What a girl you are. No wonder I like you. I’m sorry you won’t marry me.”

She laughed. “You will fall in love as most men do, when you are ready.” She didn’t say as Blake would, because it pained her to think it.

“Let’s go in to breakfast,” she said taking his arm.

It occurred to her that Blake had been right. She may be more attractive to Vincent because she was Blake’s fiancée, even if it was no longer true. Would she ever feel that ardor for any man again? She sighed. She would remain a spinster, and perhaps take up writing, like Susan.

They sat around the table and ate pancakes with strawberries and cream. Dix ate quickly and sat back rubbing his stomach. His thick, creamy moustache made them all laugh.

“After I’ve tidied the kitchen we’d best get ready to leave,” Willy said to Dix.

His smile fell away and his eyes became shaded. “Can’t we stay for a while?” he begged. “There’s a grand horse in the meadow and Susan said I could ride him.”

“I’m sorry, Dix. There’ll be horses where we are going.”

As Willy gathered up her things in the bedchamber, Susan came in and sat on the bed. “It’s been so wonderful to have you here,” she said. She plucked at the counter-pane. “You told me last night that you hate the idea of going home.”

“That’s true,” Willy confessed. “I doubt I’ll be royally welcomed.”

“Why not stay here, then?”

Willy stared at her. “Would you want Dix and me to stay?”

“Yes.”

Willy sank down on the bed. “I could,” she said, thoughtfully. She looked up and smiled. “Thank you, dear Susan. We should love to stay.”

“That’s wonderful, Willy. This is a very humble place for someone like you to live. I wouldn’t have suggested it if you hadn’t told me how sad you were to be going home.” She laughed and held Willy’s hands. “Stay as long as you like. Stay forever.”

“We shall see how Dix goes,” Willy said. “If he misbehaves, I shall take him away.”

“I don’t believe he will. He’s so happy here,” Susan said.

“I’d best go down and tell Vincent,” Willy said.

Vincent’s brows rose in surprise. “You’d stay here, in preference to your family home?”

“For the time being. I want to thank you for being a stalwart friend in my time of need,” she said, rising on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“I hope it works out for you here,” he said doubtfully. “If you should need me, send a note to my London home or to Loudon Abbey in York. I go there now and shall remain there for a while.”

She watched the carriage until it was out of sight. Then she went to find Dix. He was up in the meadow throwing a stick for Frederick, who gambled about like a spring lamb.

“Stay here?” he said uncertainly. “Can we really?”

When she nodded, his eyes shone. “For the time being,” she amended. She had no idea how long she could stay and would hate to disappoint him. She made her way back to the house. She would help with the chores and then begin to put pen to paper. She had to pay her way. A handsome face and strong, manly body swept uninvited into her vision. Would she ever be free of him? And did she wish to be?

* * * *

Lady Elizabeth gazed at her son over the dinner table. “I must say, you have behaved exceptionally badly,” she said.

He scowled. “I have?”

“You know you have.”

“It was not me who began this distressing charade, Mother. It was my father and I still have no idea why.”

“Your father was far wiser than you give him credit for.”

Blake shrugged. “How can I know? He was always closeted in his study with his magnifying glass, examining his latest collection of butterflies. If I ran in the corridor he’d come out though—to yell at me.”

“It was his interest.”

“His
only
interest.”

She tilted her head. “We are all complex in our way, Blake.”

“I dare say,” Blake said with a note of finality in his voice.

“Henry is escorting me to the theatre. What do you intend to do this evening?”

Blake shrugged. “The usual.”

“Do you like Henry?”

“Like him? I don’t dislike the fellow, if having him around makes you happy, Mother.”

“He makes me very happy.”

“Then I’m glad.” Blake thought him not a bad sort of chap. A trifle dull perhaps. But he saw a change in his mother. She was far more content these days. “Don’t tell me I hear wedding bells.”

She touched the napkin to her mouth. “Henry has asked me to marry him when the official mourning period is over.”

Blake’s eyebrows shot up. “Deuced if he has!”

“Have a nice evening,” she said, rising to kiss his cheek.

He watched her leave the room. London seemed rather dull of late. Was
everyone
out of town?

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Chapter Fourteen

The days passed into weeks and before Willy knew it she’d been at Rose Cottage for three months. She woke up one morning and found the first crocuses pushing up through the ground.

Dix came in carrying a pitcher of warm milk. As she took it from him she noticed he had to duck his head in the doorway. He had filled out, too. His cheeks were red as apples and his shoulders appeared broader. “I promised Susan I’d muck out the pig pen today,” he said.

“She intends to teach you your lessons when she returns from the village,” Willy said.

“Bah,” he said sitting down at the table as she spooned porridge into bowls. “I don’t want to.”

“Don’t you want to be able to read and count?”

“I can count. I learned real quick in London. When I pinched money from a cove’s pocket, I knew just how much it was and what I could do with it.”

“Dix!”

He looked sheepish. “I’m going to be a farmer just like my Pa. Why do I need to read?”

“So you plan to be a farmer, then?” she asked smiling at him.

He nodded.

“It’s useful for farmers to read too, Dix. Promise me you’ll be good about it.”

He looked at her the same way Frederick did. “I promise, Willy.”

“Good boy. If you study hard, we’ll go for a ride in the woods this afternoon.”

“Capital!”

* * * *

Blake left St George’s church in Hanover Square and walked home. His mother and Henry were now on their way to Paris for their honeymoon. He arrived back at the house and walked into the empty drawing room. Suddenly, he found he could not stand to be home. But he wasn’t eager to go out, either. He sat down and held his head in his hands. Tonight, he and two friends were to go to a music hall. They would separate later, he to see Dora and they to their own assignations. He gave himself a mental shake and went to change out of his grey morning suit. Tonight might prove to be better.

But it wasn’t. He found the music hall show stale, he found the company shallow. At Dora’s flat he was accused of being bad tempered and a poor companion, and finally, he stormed off home. In the street, he ran into Vincent Loudon.

“Back in London?” he asked Vincent coolly.

“As you see,” Vincent said.

“Where have you been all this time?”

“In York.”

“I hope you saw Willy safely home, seeing you took it upon yourself to do so.”

“Blake,” Vincent said, shaking his head. “I have not seen Willy these three months.”

Blake’s blue eyes opened wide. “I thought…”

“I did ask her to marry me.”

Blake flushed. “When’s the happy day?”